


The First Meeting

by AliceTenenbaum



Category: Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceTenenbaum/pseuds/AliceTenenbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My TF2 Medic OCs, Fritz and Franz. Fritz notices Franz alone and scared on the battlefield and fluffy interactions ensue. This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Meeting

Fritz was running through the battle arena, syringe gun in hand, panting heavily, as he was a very large man and he could only run for so long before he could barely breathe. No one was calling for his assistance, so he ran off by himself to a barn secluded in the corner of the arena. He stopped just inside, leaning on the wall to catch his breath. He looked up to see if there was anyone after him; in the middle of the barn, huddled against the wall, was the stick of a man that the BLUs called their medic. He stared at Fritz, wide-eyed and visibly shaking; all of his gear was on the ground next to him.  
“Hallo?” Fritz called.  
“P-please stay avay from m-me,” the BLU medic said.  
Why Fritz didn't feel the need to kill the man, he didn't know exactly. Maybe it was because he looked so scared and alone. A man of his size could never take on a man of Fritz's size; it was just unfair. But he would respawn in a matter of seconds if he did decide to kill him, so it really didn't matter, but something kept Fritz from charging at him and impaling him with his saw, sticking him up to the wall.  
“I'm not going to hurt you,” Fritz told him.  
“Just please leave.”  
Fritz laid down his syringe gun and bonesaw, then took off his medi-gun equipment, putting his hands up.  
“I have laid all of my weapons down. I am going to come to you now.”  
He walked slowly towards the BLU medic, who only stared at him until he got close enough to see that Fritz was at least four inches taller than him. As he looked up at him. Fritz could see that his left eye was glazed over with white, a scar going from his eyebrow, down through his eye, and stopped at his cheek. His face was extremely sunken in, prominent cheekbones poking out from the sides of his long, pale face.  
“Vhat is your name?” Fritz asked calmly.  
“F-Franz,” he answered.  
“Our names are almost zhe same. Mine is Fritz,” Fritz chortled. “Now, vhy are you so distressed? Vhy are you not vizh your team? I can hear zhem calling for you.”  
“I-I can't go out zhere,” Franz said quietly.  
“Vhy not?”  
“Zhe conflict. I can't stand zhe conflict,” he whimpered.  
“You signed up to zhe medic.”  
“I didn't know it vas going to be like zhis! I zhought I vas going to have my own operating room or infirmary or somezhing und heal people, not run around vizh strange veapons und get shot at!” he cried.  
His lip trembled and his eyes watered. His shaking intensified and he began crying quietly. Fritz watched him cry for a minute, then hesitantly put his arms around the small man and pulled him gently to his large, plump body. Franz threw his arms around Fritz's round form and squeezed him tightly as he cried. Fritz smiled; this was nice, to have someone to hold in his arms, someone who needed his comfort. He was a handsome one as well; being a polysexual, Fritz couldn't help but feel at least a little bit attracted to him. Not to mention the hidden courage to hug and trust someone who he had never met before and was on the opposing team. Noises of battle grew farther away and Franz began to calm down a bit. He took his arms from around Fritz's waist and pulled them to himself, gripping Fritz's sleeve. Fritz took a hand and gently ran his fingers through Franz's thin, slowly greying hair, mindful of his downward facing curl. Franz relaxed in his arms and cuddled to Fritz and inhaled deeply.  
“Danke Fritz. I...I really needed zhat,” Franz thanked.  
“You are qvite velcome,” Fritz smiled.  
“Vhy didn't you just kill me? Ve are on opposite teams.”  
“I couldn't leave somevone as handsome as you crying alone vizhout anyvone to him, could I?”  
Fritz stroked Franz's cheek lightly.  
“You zhink I'm...handsome?”  
Suddenly, Franz pushed himself to Fritz again, his shaking returning. Fritz looked to see what had caused Franz to freak out again; the RED Scout stood in the doorway of the barn. Fritz pushed Franz against the wall protectively and squeezed him to himself.  
“What the hell is this? Why ain't ya' killin' this bastard? Ya' got him pinned to the wall, finish him!” Scout yelled.  
“You stay avay from him,” Fritz warned, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.  
Scout looked down to see Fritz's weapons laying discarded on the ground. He nudged the medi-pack with his foot and looked back up at Fritz.  
“Thinkin' about switchin' teams, huh? That why all your stuff's on the ground?”  
He began to walk angrily towards the pair of medics. Fritz squeezed Franz, feeling the tiny man shivering in his arms, his breath coming out in frightened whimpers.  
“I said stay avay!” Fritz yelled.  
“No. Ya can't do this. You are paid to blow these losers' brains outta their heads, not cuddle 'em, so get to it before I do it for ya,” Scout threatened, coming closer.  
Fritz was usually a very calm, patient, sweet man, but this Scout was pushing his limits dangerously close to the edge. He watched Scout like a hawk, taking note of every move. He barely knew the man he held, but he knew for sure that Franz needed his right then and he wasn't going to let Scout stress him out even more.  
“I'm givin' ya ten seconds to kill him, then I'm killin' him myself.”  
He waited for Fritz to do something, but he only glared at Scout. Franz was almost completely hidden in Fritz's uniform and fat. The ten seconds passed and Scout pulled out his pistol and shrugged.  
“Alright, your choice ya stupid fatass,” he said.  
He pointed the gun at what he could see of Franz'z head, but Fritz grabbed Scout's tiny head in his large, chubby hand and began bashing it into the wall. Franz flinched back and hid his face in Fritz's soft chest; he hated blood.  
“I! SAID! STAY! AVAY!” he screamed in between bashings, Scout's head finally caving in and blood splattered against the wall and some on the side of Franz's face, along with tiny skull bits.  
He began whimpering again; Fritz pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and gently wiped the blood off of Franz's face, then stuffed it back in the pocket, gazing down at the terrified man. He looked back up with big, wet eyes, one a pale blue, the other a milky white.  
“Its alvright, he von't hurt you now,” Fritz comforted.  
“Vhy did you you do zhat? He vas on your team.”  
“ He vas going to kill you. I vasn't going to let zhat happen. Ve may be on oposite sides, but I respect you as a fellow medic. You had already placed you trust in me, so I vas going to assure you zhat you did not misplace it.”  
“Zhank you. You didn't have to.”  
“But I did.”  
“I don't vant to go back out zhere,” Franz whimpered.  
“Zhen don't. Stay vizh me. Bozh team medics are missing, so zhey are at an equal disadvantage. Zhere can't be more zhan zhirty minutes left for today. You need time to calm down, take zhis as your chance. I'll be vizh you zhe whole time.”  
Franz didn't say anything, but Fritz knew that he wasn't moving an inch away from him. He felt the small man get comfortable in his grasp. Now, Fritz really felt for him; he liked this, all the clinging and needing of comfort. It was cute and very much desirable. Eventually, Administrator announced that battle was over for the day. This made Fritz a bit sad because he had to let Franz go, but he would be able to see him tomorrow. He released Franz and tried to get back to his gear, but Franz wouldn't let go of him.  
“I can't go back to zhe base. Zhey'll all get angry und yell at me, especially Soldier. I can't stand being yelled at. It scares me,” Franz told him.  
“You can come to zhe RED base vizh me,” Fritz offered.  
“No, I can't, I'll get killed in zhere for sure.”  
“I von't let anyvone hurt you. Just grab your zhings und stay close to me. I vill protect you, I promise.”  
Franz nodded and gathered his equipment and stayed close to Fritz as he walked to the RED base. What was he doing? He was blindly following this man he had barely met into the enemy base. He didn't know if he could trust him or what he was going to do with him when they got there. But he did trust him; he also found him attractive. Or maybe he was just a desperate gay who wanted someone to love him very badly. Fritz was so charming, and he had killed one of his own teammates to keep him safe. He also liked hugging Fritz's body. His fat was warm and soft; perfect for holding onto when cuddling or...other things.  
They walked in a few dozen feet behind the RED team. Franz's anxiety got worse every second; he began sweating as he gripped Fritz's coat tightly. He patted Franz's back reassuringly and led him into the base.  
Fritz was usually the last person in the base after battle, but Soldier heard two pairs of footsteps coming in behind the group. He turned to see both Fritz and the BLU medic. He stopped in his tracks.  
“What in the hell is HE doing in here?!” Soldier yelled, grabbing the attention of everyone else.  
Franz froze, his eyes widening as he presses himself to Fritz. Scout ran up next to Soldier.  
“What the fuck! First, ya kill me over him, now ya bring him into our base?! Are you an idiot?! He could be a spy for the BLU team!”  
Fritz ignored them and continued walking, pulling Franz along with him. Franz stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with everyone, trying to keep himself together; Soldier planted himself firmly in front of them.  
“Don't you ignore me Fatass,” he snapped.  
Fritz suddenly punched Soldier hard in his face, the fat coating his fingers giving no cushion. There was a loud crack and Soldier held his nose in his hands; Fritz grinned—he had broken Soldier's nose. The crowd of mercenaries gasped; never had Fritz shown aggression like that before, let alone to a teammate.  
“Do not speak to me zhat vay. Now you must find somevone else to heal your nose, as I refuse to help you. Now leave us alone or I vill break more zhan just your nose,” Fritz threatened.  
He tugged Franz along with him and the mercs parted like the Red Sea to allow them to pass. He led the shaken man to the infirmary and locked the doors behind them. Franz relaxed slightly.  
“Danke again Fritz,” he thanked.  
“No problem. I do not like it vhen people call me Fatass. It is qvite rude, zhough I suppose it is true. But zhat doesn't mean zhat--” Fritz noticed that the area behind Franz was distorted suspiciously. “GET DOWN!”  
Fritz took out his bonesaw and pushed Franz's head down, then swung the saw at the empty air, emitting a disgusting, meaty sound. Franz turned to see the RED Spy's body uncloak, his head barely attached to his neck by a few strands of skin.  
“He must have sneaked in behind us before I locked zhe door,” Fritz deducted.  
“Zhis vas a horrible idea,” Franz whimpered. “Everyvone is trying to kill me. I don't vant to die! I don't vant to be here! I just vant to go home!”  
Franz began crying again; Fritz led him to his operating chair and sat him down, pulling up a chair and taking his long, bony hands in his big, chunky ones.  
“Shh, no vone is going to hurt you, I'm not going to leave you. No vone can get in vizhout my key. Ve are zhe only vones in here. Zhere is no need to vorry now. You are safe,” Fritz assured him.  
Franz nodded and wiped his eyes with the back of a hand.  
“J-ja, I'm sorry. I have just been very depressed lately und I can't figure out vhy. I haven't been diagnosed vizh it, but I keep having attacks like zhe vone today.”  
“Do you have a zheory about vhy you are depressed?”  
“Nein.”  
“Are you getting enough sleep?”  
“I get about eight hours a night usually.”  
“Are you stressed about your vork?”   
“A bit, but I'm good at my job vhen I'm not like zhis, so it can't be zhat.”  
“Are you eating enough?”  
“I...I haven't eaten anyzhing in zhree days.”  
Fritz's eyes nearly popped out of his head.  
“Zhree days?! Zhat is not healzhy! Zhat is vhy you are so depressed! You don't have any substance in your body so you von't function right! Do you fast like zhis often?”  
“I don't keep track. I don't really like to eat.”  
“Vhy?”  
“I just don't.”  
“Food gives you life Franz! You need to eat. Stay here und I vill go get you somezhing to eat.”  
Fritz walked to a large cabinet and opened it; it was almost overflowing with food. He took out a package of sausages, a few potatoes and an apple. He went to a stove that sat next to the cabinet and began boiling and peeling the potatoes. After about thirty minutes, the food was ready. He turned off the stove and made two plates, a smaller one for himself and a large one with apple slices on the side for Franz. He brought the plates to the operating chair and sat them on the side table.  
“Zhe food is--”  
Franz had dozed off in the chair, his mouth hanging open slightly and his glassed had slid to the very tip of his nose. Fritz smiled and gently shook the man awake: he woke with a small shout, then recognized the kind face in front of him. He yawned and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes.  
“Zhe food is ready.”  
“Ja. Danke.”   
Fritz took a spoonful of potatoes and fed them to Franz; he chewed them slowly and swallowed, the warmth traveling down his throat and into his stomach. He shivered, just then noticing that he was cold.  
“Cold?” Fritz asked.  
Franz nodded. Fritz got up and went into a back room and emerged with a huge, fluffy blanket. He draped it around Franz's small shoulders. Immediately Franz pulled it closer and sniffled. Fritz fed him another bite; they finished about half of the potatoes, then Franz refused to eat any more.  
“You barely ate anyzhing. You need to eat more,” Fritz told him, urging another spoonful of potatoes.  
“Nein. Zhat is all I usually eat. I'm full.”  
“I don't care. If you are getting depressed because of lack of food, you obviously need to eat more. You're nozhing but skin and bones.”  
“I have been zhis vay all my life und I'm fine. I don't need to eat anyzhing else und you can't make me,” Franz pouted.  
Fritz sighed; so he was one of those people. The kind with the sass and attitude. Luckily, Fritz was the patient type and knew how to bend him just the way he wanted.  
“All you life und look vhere it has gotten you; depressed in a barn, surrounded by battle, forced to take protection from somevone from zhe opposite team,” Fritz said sternly Franz averted his gaze, looking anywhere else but at the man in front of him. “Franz, if you aren't going to do it for yourself, do it for me, please.”  
Franz huffed, but opened his mouth and allowed Fritz to feed him more. They finished the potatoes and began on the sausages and apple slices; Fritz cut the sausages into pieces and alternated between apples and sausages for the sake of Franz's palette, feeding him an entire sausage and half an apple until he absolutely refused to eat anymore. He had eaten enough, so Fritz scraped the rest onto his plate. Franz moaned and leaned back into the chair. Through the blanket, Fritz could see him rubbing his belly, not used to feeling this full.  
“Danke for eating more. Starving yourself is not good for your body, let alone for zhree days.”  
“But I'm so full. I'm miserable.” Franz complained.  
“Sehr gut. Zhat means I've done my job right.”  
Despite being miserably stuffed, under the blanket he was very warm and surprisingly comfortable. Fritz watched as Franz's eyes drooped. It looked like he was spending the night in the infirmary.  
“Are you tired?” Fritz asked and Franz shot up in the chair and opened his eyes.  
“Nein, I am not tired,” he said.  
“Alvright, vell, I'll stay vizh you until you are. Zhen I'll leave you alone.”  
Franz nodded and laid back, his eyes immediately drooping almost all the way closed. Fritz picked up his plate of food and began eating; it had cooled down significantly and didn't taste great, but he didn't mind. He watched Franz as he tried not to fall asleep, but was slowly succumbing to the night. Soon, Franz was fast asleep, snoring loudly in the chair, curled up under the big blanket. Fritz had long finished his dinner and just watched the frightfully skinny man breathe in his sleep. He heaved himself out of his chair and switched off the light over the chair. He put a hand gently over Franz's forehead and stroked his hair.  
“Guten nacht Liebe,” he whispered before lumbering to his own room, switching off the main light before going in.  
He had sacrificed his blanket to Franz for the sake of comfort and to keep him fairly happy. He didn't mind the chill; he had enough fat on his body to keep him warm for the night. What the hell was he thinking, bringing the enemy medic into his own, private infirmary? But he was just so helpless, standing there against the wall. Fritz really did feel bad for punching Soldier and smashing Scout's head in, but he truly felt that he had to protect Franz. He had to. He felt a special feeling when he was protecting him, his arms wrapped around the frightened man. Maybe he was just desperate for someone to hold. Or maybe, just maybe, he actually felt love. Probably not true love just yet, but love. He would give it time and see what would come of it.  
~~  
Fritz woke up to something loud and metallic falling to the ground. He got out of bed and carefully checked the main room; he could just barely see the outline of Franz standing up.   
“Franz?”  
Franz screamed.  
“Mein gott! You scared me! Don't do zhat!” Franz yelled.  
“I'm sorry. Is everyzhing alvright? I heard somezhing fall.”  
“Oh, ja, um, I zhink I knocked zhe side table over.”  
Fritz squinted at the clock on the wall lit up very faintly by the moonlight.  
“Its two zhirty in zhe morning. Vhy are you getting up?”  
“I, um...I can't get comfortable.” Franz answered.  
“You seemed very comfortable vhen I vent to bett.”  
“Vell I'm not anymore,” he snapped.  
“Zhere isn't anyvhere else to sleep aside from zhe floor und my bed, but I doubt you'd vant to sleep vizh me.”  
On the contrary, Franz really did want to sleep with Fritz. That’s why he got up, so he could sneak to the bedroom and snuggle up to him. But his damn clumsy self went and knocked over the loudest metal thing in the entire room, so now he had to play it cool.  
“Anyvhere vould be better zhan zhat chair.”  
“Alvright. Do you still have my blanket?”  
“Nein. I”ll get it.”  
Franz took one step and immediately tripped over something. Fritz hurried to him and helped him up; as soon as Franz was back on his feet, he jerked away from Fritz, felt around for the blanket, then began to walk to Fritz's room. Fortunately, he avoided tripping over anything else and once to the bed, he got in and scooted as close to the edge as possible.  
After a few seconds, he felt a heavy weight lay on the mattress and slip under the blanket with him. Fritz stayed on the opposite side of the bed, not wanting to make his guest feel uncomfortable.  
“Are you comfortable?” Fritz asked quietly.  
“Ja, ja. Go to bett.”  
Franz closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but, it would have been much more comfortable to have been cuddled up to Fritz instead of on the other side of the bed from him. He really wanted to cuddle him; he could make it seem like an accident, like he had done it in his sleep. That was his plan; he rolled over quickly, his arm draping over Fritz's side, then faked an asleep moan and pulled himself closer. It seemed to be pretty convincing. This was much better, curled up at the back of the fat man radiating warmth.  
Suddenly, Fritz rolled over to face Franz. He pulled Franz to his chest and buried his big nose in his fading, black hair. Franz blushed, but continued to pretend to be asleep.  
“You don't have to pretend to be asleep,” Fritz said. Franz didn't answer, hoping to still convince him. “I know you aren't asleep Franz. You aren't snoring like a train, so you must be avake.”  
“Alvright fine. I'm not asleep,” Franz answered and pulled his arm off of Fritz.  
“Nein, you don't have to do zhat. I don't mind. I razher like it.”  
Franz snaked his arm back over Fritz.  
“Do...do you like me Fritz?” he asked softly.   
“Of course I like you. I vouldn't have saved you if I didn't like you.”  
“Nein, like me as in, love, like me.”  
“I...ja. I do. I like you a lot in zhat vay. Vhezher you feel zhe same vay or not vill decide if I keep trying to impress you.”  
Franz was silent for a while, listening to himself and Fritz breathing in the dark room.  
“You are very varm,” Franz said.  
“Vell, being fat does mean staying varm,” Fritz told him and gave him a light squeeze. “Now, I have answered your qvestion, so you must answer mine; do you like me as vell? Und don't try to hide it. Your lies are very easy to see zhrough. Answer me honestly und I vill not be disappointed by it.”  
Franz grumbled something to himself, embarrassed.  
“Ja. I do like you. A lot. Or maybe I just really vant somevone to love und I'm desperate. Eizher vay, you're stuck vizh me, because you are zhe olny vone I know who loves zhis cranky old man.”  
Fritz smiled and kissed Franz's forehead.  
“Vell I don't mind you being cranky or old so it looks like zhings are going to vork out just fine.”  
Franz nestled into Fritz's pudgy chest and closed his eyes, feeling safe and surprisingly, happy, for the first time since taking his job. Maybe Fritz was just the man for him, able to put up with his grouchiness and bitterness. He would wait; give it time to work itself out for them. Until then, he was content with the way things were at the moment.  
-End-


End file.
